


Steal Your Heart

by afrocurl, maichan808 (maichan), piras



Series: Accidents Will Happen [2]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Canon-Typical Violence, Emma Frost HBIC, Emotionally Crippled Erik, Erik has Feelings, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Forced Marriage, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 17:19:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1826095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/pseuds/afrocurl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/maichan/pseuds/maichan808, https://archiveofourown.org/users/piras/pseuds/piras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mutant Islands sit in an isolated spot in the Pacific Ocean, inhabited by mutants after humans ejected them from their countries of origin or residence. Nothing was simple for the three islands as they struggled against each other, and the threat of war hung over them constantly.</p><p>Erik Lehnsherr of the King's Guard is forced into a mission he never wanted - but when he does so he meets Charles Xavier, who changes his entire worldview. One slight slip later, Erik and Charles are married and life takes a different turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steal Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Round Three of X -Men Big Bang with help from maichan and estoie, artists extraordinaire!. Their art can be found [here](http://maichan808.tumblr.com/post/89545797692/) and [here](http://ingrates.tumblr.com/post/89521901396/my-contribution-to-this-years-x-men-big-bang-i).
> 
> Many thanks to **ninemoons42** , **starxd-sparrow** , **kageillusionz** and **velvetcadence** for beta help along the way as well as support when I needed a hand to hold. PJ, especially, because this story was a difficult one to put together.
> 
> Much love to both **maichan** and **estioe** for doing art for this and being awesome as this story took shape slowly.
> 
> Even more respect and admiration to **aesc** and **trobador** , where the original kernel of this story came from - [The Accidental Marriage](http://archiveofourown.org/chapters/2263953), was written based off their collective prompts in December and edited in early January. Also for all those people in the comments there who were asking for more, here it is!

**_The Mutant Islands_**

_In the middle of the Pacific Ocean, just a few degrees north of the equator, sit three islands, each under autonomous rule. They are among the last lands ever "discovered" on Earth, found almost as an afterthought to the eras of European imperialism overseas and America’s nascent imperialist tendencies within its own continent._

_Three islands isolated from the rest of the world, first populated when humans decided that mutants - those who had extra abilities that made them different - were not fit to live with those who went without. These havens, collectively known as the Mutant Islands, share a history that is more complicated than the rest of the world knows or believes._

_Many nations considered the uninhabited isles ripe for colonization, but such attempts did not succeed because soon after the discovery of the archipelago came the revelation of mutants. By the collective agreement of the most powerful nations, the islands were bequeathed to all mutants and their sympathizers._

_The countries, separated by a few days' travel by boat or one day's travel by airship, were founded by disparate groups of mutants forcibly relocated to unfamiliar shores. From those difficult beginnings normal life arose - or, at least, the kind of normalcy that could take place in communities of empowered citizens with different histories and occasionally clashing points of view._

_Despite their differences - up to and including ties to the rest of the world as well as long-standing grudges both real and imagined - Westchester, Genosha, and Wakanda have forged ahead with the often difficult work of implementing alliances, keeping up trade, and working towards the respective betterment of their citizens. As a result, the three countries were as friendly as autonomous nations could be with each other - each concerned only with its own economy, people, and survival._

_Westchester is currently the most prosperous of the three island nations set aside for mutants. It boasts verdant pastures, calm waters now hosting fruitful fisheries, and terrain reminiscent of various locations in Europe. At present it is ruled by Amahl Farouk, who governs his people as much by actual political strength as by his mutation. He is capable of transferring his consciousness from one host body to another, and can also take over another person's consciousness._

_Wakanda is the smallest of the three island nations. Its position nearest the equator affords it high temperatures and the economic challenges that go with them. It is ruled by Ororo Munroe and T'Challa, who are held to be kind to their people but distant from them. Few details have been revealed about T’Challa’s abilities; Munroe’s, by contrast, are well-documented, as she uses her weather-working skills to ease some of the problems faced by her country._

_Genosha's mix of terrain has attracted the most diverse population of the three islands. Ruled by Sebastian Shaw, whose mutation involves the absorption and redirection of kinetic energy directed at him, the island seems caught between the extremes of a fearful population and a contented one. It is also unique among the three mutant nations in that it has a standing army whose numbers are boosted by conscription._

_Diplomatic relations between the three islands are by no means completely peaceful. Tensions are reported to simmer just beyond the water's edge with the arrival of any sort of convoy, but these tensions take a backseat to larger and more destructive threats from the rest of the world. Peace is currently maintained as a delicate balance between the three, although the rulers of Westchester and Genosha seem always prepared to start or to abet hostilities in order to prove strengths between their peoples._

_Intrigues and plots between the three countries have become almost commonplace, although this was less true on Genosha, enforced by Shaw's outright decree. While none of the governments can claim the peace will last, none want to make the first move towards open war._

_Excerpt from the Encyclopedia Britannica 1869 Edition_

* * *

_1854_

Erik fidgeted at his small desk through the drone of words coming from one of his instructors.

The history of the Mutant Islands should have been an exciting topic, but today Erik found the words coming from the general vicinity of the chalkboard to be dull and insipid.

To be sure, Genosha, Wakanda and Westchester had been founded when the world all but expelled mutants from their homes, but even now, the educational materials were published _out there_ and lacked much of the truth.

The booklet provided was part of some generic history, bound in an oversized leather volume that made it seem as if the islands had been the salvation of all mutants. Erik knew that was hardly true. Sure, many mutants had died in the first few years of the islands’ establishment - his older sister among them - but it was not because they were less than anyone else. Truthfully, Wakanda was as arid as Africa, but on Genosha and Westchester, the humidity had been difficult for many. It wasn't as if those who had moved to India from England had had an easy time of adjusting, but that information was noticeably absent from this text.

That the world outside the three islands thought so little of mutants made Erik's blood boil. Science had yet to prove there were more than just a few differences between mutants and baselines. He had to stop himself from letting the anger overtake him, though.

He was in the Institute at the behest of King Sebastian Shaw, who had seen Erik’s manifestation only weeks before: Erik so frustrated at the merchant trying to take more money from his mother that he had simply lifted the man's entire collection of coins out of every single pocket. Erik, it had been said to him, had power over metal and perhaps magnetism in general.

King Shaw had said that Erik’s place would be in the King’s Guard when he was older, more powerful, more sure of himself. Before that, however, he needed to be educated, for he was to protect the King against the evils of Westchester’s King Amahl Farouk, and to maintain the tenuous truce between Genosha and Wakanda’s King T’Challa and Queen Ororo.

Erik drew his attention back to the instructor and let the lesson sink in as best he could. Who knew if knowing the bias of the world’s opinion of his home would ever be useful?

-

_1859_

 

As a lowly guard to King Shaw, Erik was forced to work many of the worst jobs from amongst that elite group. He only saw work on the graveyard shift, when no one normally dared move through the palace, save the vermin.

The palace, in opposition to everything the baselines wanted to believe, looked like many of the grand castles of Europe. With the help of a few mutants who could create rock from sand, Genosha looked like the Rhineland when it had been under Prussian rule, before they left Dusseldorf with Uncle Max in tow. Uncle Max had developed a small affinity for metal and the family had chosen to leave with him, rather than abandon him.

But right now, Erik tried not to think of his family as he stood straight and watched the King’s chambers. There were no sounds along the hallway, but as he focused more carefully, he heard what he had been given to believe were the sounds of passion, of sex. But he had not seen anyone walk through the doors since his shift started, and Logan before him had said nothing else.

He carefully unlocked the door with his powers and walked in, intent to find out who had escaped his attention. Atop the King on his bed was a woman with shockingly blonde hair, who looked to be having the time of her life.

_I am, sugar. Now do be a dear and leave. I’m in the middle of something very important._

The words weren’t said aloud, and so Erik knew that the woman had to be Lady Emma Frost, Genosha’s only telepath. She went back to moaning and dragging herself up and down the King’s body, as if Erik was not at all in the room.

He quickly closed and locked the door again and said nothing of what he had seen when Logan returned for his shift just after dawn. There was room to keep secrets in Genosha. Especially a secret between himself and the lone telepath.

-

_1863_

As war ravaged the United States - more's the pity for them, what with the small role they'd played in Genosha's existence - King Shaw wed his paramour Lady Emma Frost. Erik stood at the King’s side, watching the assembled guests for signs of trouble. Given so many years of practice, his control over metal and magnetic fields was now unmatched by anyone on Genosha. He had his place at the King’s side and still said nothing unless prompted to do so.

Erik had held his tongue about the night many years ago when he caught his new Queen riding King Shaw like an over-excited girl on her first horse, and that had paid off in later years. As Lady Emma became a woman of court, she told King Shaw of the good work Erik had done protecting him over the years, though Erik was sure that there were no details besides that. Erik, as a result, had found himself in the King's trust and good graces, and now no longer was given any duties as mundane as watching the King's chambers at night.

Time and time again, Erik was invited into meetings as King Shaw tried to make sense of the long stalemate between King Farouk of Westchester and himself. Erik was a respected member of Shaw’s guard, and a man Genoshans of all kinds were forced to respect.

As he half-listened to the priest officiate, it reminded Erik his growing responsibilities had kept him from anything beyond the comings and goings of the King and Queen. He hadn’t seen his parents in nine years, nor had he seen anyone outside of the King’s Guardsmen on a regular basis.

Now was not the proper time to think of his shrunken libido, and so he tried to listen again to the wedding vows. He had a job to do after all, and so he stretched his powers out and felt for any stray or unwanted metal.

-

Drunk and high on the Queen’s own happiness, Erik crashed into his small room and wished for someone - anyone - who could provide him with a fraction of the happiness he knew the King and Queen shared for each other.

Even his own rough hand slowly moving against his hardening erection felt hollow and cheap. It was especially cheap compared to his own vague memories of the first time he met Lady Frost.

-

_1867_

Erik was one of the few Guardsmen in Genosha who were privy to news from King Shaw's private audiences. What Erik knew right now was that one of the leading dissenters in Westchester had been killed: Brian Xavier.

The details were sketchy at best, but Erik knew Xavier had been shot in his home, orphaning his son, Charles, and adopted daughter, Raven Darkholme.

Dangerous. The death of any of Westchester's dissenters was a blow to Genosha's tenuous position with that kingdom, and Xavier had been one of the loudest voices keeping King Farouk in check.

Who was to say what would happen now that Farouk was without a strong and vocal opposition?

Erik wasn’t sure he wanted to find out, but he knew that sooner or later (hopefully later), there would be an answer.

King Shaw, as if knowing Erik’s internal debate, stalked into the room, his energy free causing everything in his wake to fly into the walls. “What the hell are we going to do about Farouk now?”

Erik felt himself ease into the conversation then. King Shaw wanted a plan, and Erik could think of more than enough of them to keep Genosha safe.

“If Xavier’s son is as strong-willed as his father, Farouk’s still going to need to appease him. We might not need as strong an approach, but we’ll still need a few plans,” Erik said and hoped that that small comment could sway the King away from war.

-

_1870_

The Grand Hall of Genosha was designed to intimidate just as much as it was designed to demonstrate the power of King Sebastian Shaw and his White Queen, Emma Frost. The room reflected their opposing tastes: polished ebony on his side and pure white marble on hers. It was much like their style of rule: King Shaw, the hard edges, and Queen Frost, icy and distant. In truth, she was no more than Shaw’s consort - her title only there to appease the citizens who still found the old system preferable and who knew how she came into her marriage; her face was beautiful and her power a trump card - and for a very few, the truth of their life was fodder for gossip rather than veneration. He was the power and most knew it, though they said nothing at her displays of influence over courtiers and nobles who clamored for favors. It was easier, Erik had heard for those who wanted King Shaw’s influence, to not dismiss his queen. It wasn’t done, and if it were attempted, the Queen’s telepathy stopped any discussion before it whispered through the halls of the palace and into the city below.

Erik Lehnsherr, or Magneto of the Black King’s Guard, mused on these thoughts about the Hall as he stood and looked on as the King and Queen took in the usual visitors. It was a menial task to watch these visitors, but one the Black King always asked the best guards to do; for Erik knew the King feared for his life more often than most knew, threats always looming from Farouk’s Westchester days away. The Black King constantly worried his power would be usurped, that someone would think they could rule better than he, and so he prepared with force to demonstrate his power and his iron will, no matter who might think of taking over Genosha. He was vigilant, which Erik applauded, but also overeager and equally paranoid. Erik merely stood, looking stern and impassive as the visitors walked in and out: the perfect guard in the King’s employ and the most feared warrior on the island.

Erik was sure the King was paranoid, but always kept that thought as small as possible, lest the White Queen overhear. It was always a possibility at court because the guards’ regular helmets were forbidden. The helmets were another of Shaw’s designs - helmets that mitigated the effects of telepaths, no matter how strong their psionic abilities. Another means of protection against Farouk, Erik knew, but also against the other telepaths that existed on the other islands. No one knew – not even Shaw - how powerful one might be, or how far that power could extend. Despite Erik’s introduction to Queen Frost, he knew better than to risk her ire; she had social capital at the ready and was always willing to cash it in to ruin or save someone’s reputation.

Turning his thoughts away from the facts of his work and position, Erik tried to pay attention to the droll conversations the King and Queen were expected to sit through and comment on. Normally these conversations were about the health of crops and petitions for safe passage to Wakanda or to Westchester, nothing that demanded much of Erik’s mind or his skills. Those were conversations Erik had very little use for, so he kept his mind on them only if it seemed the King or Queen had use for them; if the conversation had military implications, Erik’s attention was piqued and he listened intently. He played a long game, just as the Black King did, and so information was only useful when turned the right way and when kept for the opportune moment. There were still snippets of conversations from years ago that Erik was waiting to use to his advantage, and he was sure King Shaw was doing the same.

However, today, none of these petitions were of that nature, and so Erik watched as his leaders sat forward and leaned towards the man currently at their feet. It was a local fisherman from the side of the island that was closer to Westchester.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness, I bring bad news. My son, he has the gift of extraordinary sight, and on one of our trips out to catch fish off the coast, he saw Westchester ships on their way. There were at least fifteen – all warships and none of the usual fishing boats we see coming to trade. I came to you as soon as I could so that you could prepare and fight against Farouk and his people.”

“You’ve served us well,” Shaw said as he sat back against his black throne. “We will handle the matter and will see that you are safe. Always.”

The man waited for the curt nod from both Shaw and Frost and then hurried away. Erik thought the man wise, and equally brave. It said something that Shaw’s spies - the few crafty men who were too cunning to be battle ready as the King’s Guard were - had missed the signs that Farouk was about to start something. Shaw would be sure to use Erik, or Logan, or Alex, to exact some punishment against whoever had missed this news.

“Erik, go and gather Logan, Warren, Alex and Armando. You all will be busy in no time. You must prepare tonight and leave by first light.”

“Yes, sir,” was all Erik could say before he left quickly. He knew that there was no time to waste and that to spark the King’s ire now - especially now - would be a poor decision.

It took no time at all for Erik to move from the Grand Hall into the barracks and start to command his friends to Shaw’s will. The thrill of battle always sparked something in Erik that felt powerful and in control; he welcomed that feeling to the mundane day-to-day training and the standing about as citizens prattled on. He knew his colleagues felt the same.

“Hurry up, everyone! There’s little time to waste. The Shadow King has a flotilla of warships coming from Westchester. Shaw wants all of us rested and ready to go at dawn tomorrow. Farouk’s ships might be already upon us by the time we arrive at the village on the northwestern edge of the island.”

Erik watched as the group nodded and shed their armor and clothes of the day. It was obvious they had all been training while he had been keeping eyes on the King. He would do the same but waited to see that all of them were following orders. The clatter of dropping armor and thudding boots was enough for Erik to know that these men followed his orders and so he started to undress and ready himself for the next day.

Sleep was not quick to come that night, but Erik knew well that he thrived on the battlefield’s frantic pace rather than on his body’s natural reactions. When he felt himself drifting off, his dreams were of steel and iron flying under his will towards Westchester’s soldiers, faceless men and women, until all that was left were his weapons and the quiet hum of free flowing iron from spilt blood.

-

Dawn came far too quickly - or maybe not quickly enough - and soon the king’s guard was off and being transported quickly to the north-westernmost border of Genosha. It was a fast march to the sea, but one Erik found relaxing, knowing that at the water’s edge were scores of Westchester’s finest, ready to attack. His colleagues each looked as prepared as he was, wearing hard, determined faces as they marched, but he was sure that one or two of them were scared. The younger ones hadn’t seen any action beyond the practice rounds; the older ones perhaps worried about their families.

Erik knew little of Farouk as a leader, outside of what was common knowledge around Genosha - that the man scared and intimidated all his citizens for the sake of his rule except for those few dissenters. He had heard rumors the man held onto a citizen’s body for his use, but had no proof of such a claim, even if the few European books spoke of it as fact. Considering that many of Westchester’s citizens were from Europe, Erik wondered how they could have left relatively peaceful leaders for Farouk and why they hadn’t left the island for Genosha instead. That was a thought for another day, however.

Erik marched on, his pace faster than was necessary, but his need for action calling just as he felt the metal in the warships on the horizon. His mind needed to be focused on the ways to defeat Westchester’s armies and how to stand firm for his country. He mulled the best use of his powers, and those of his team. Logan and Alex were best for fighting ground troops; Warren most suited for scouting and the occasional dropping of a cannonball or three; Armando perfect to help destroy the boats from underwater if the fighting went on for too long.

Their trek lasted only another few hours and then Erik saw what the fisherman had only made reference to: at least fifteen large ships, plus two airships swarmed near enough to the border that the tiny fishing village would be destroyed if the army had arrived later.

“Stand and defend, everyone!” Erik commanded, taking his position closest to the water. He had only one job: to protect the town by any means necessary.

As if on cue, Westchester began to attack. Cannonballs came flying towards the shore, the roar of being fired hot on their tail. The air whooshed and sizzled with the projectiles, while Erik carefully deflected most of them, sending iron balls thudding into the water with angry splashes. He felt alive as he worked, ready for the next wave of attacks.

Warren was in the air, wings graceful as he looked for signs of ships approaching and incoming weapons that Erik couldn’t feel. Logan and Alex were in the water waiting for troops to hit the ground, each ready to strike at the first sign of men coming off the small boats floating towards them. Erik dropped all the cannonballs away from the boats, but not purposefully. Immediately he felt for his helmet.

No telepathic influence then, his safeguard against them firmly in place. Good thing there was no one manipulating him. Shaw would never forgive that. Shaw would be too worried about the flotilla’s position to question why there weren’t more wounded Westchesterians.

He went back to work, sensing the ships' dwindling supplies of cannonballs, when a small boy came scurrying up to him.

“Sir Erik. The Queen has requested you return to the capital. She fears for her life. The King has agreed you will stay with her and protect her at all costs.”

The boy’s voice rang loudly in Erik’s ears, even as he worked to fend off more ammunition.

“I would be of more use here, however,” he said to the boy, though he was sure that arguing with the messenger would do him no good.

Indeed, the boy shook his head. “King Shaw said you should return quickly. The rest of the men will be fine without you. Serve Genosha,” the boy said, using the country’s motto to reinforce what Erik knew he had to do.

“Armando, stay here and observe, relaying any information you can. Take care of everyone else and good luck.” With that, Erik left his post and began the march back towards the capital and his new assignment: protecting Queen Frost. He cursed her all the way for her decision to feel afraid now when he was more useful in battle. He had had little time to talk with her since their first encounter, and he had preferred it that way. Now, however, it would be his responsibility to protect her, and to engage her on a daily basis while Shaw was here, fighting.

He was tired and in need of sleep by the time he walked into the Grand Hall to greet Queen Frost the next day, but Erik had resigned himself to subtle demonstrations of his power against any spies that might lurk in the shadows. They would already know that the Queen was in the Palace without her King, but now they knew who was to guard her and keep her protected.

-

The Palace had taken on a grey color as the King and most of the knights and guards still waited near the sea village for signs of Westchester’s forces retreating or making a push for the shores of Genosha. Erik found the grey suited everyone around the city, save the Queen - who still wore her armor of white as a point of pride.

Slowly, the news trickled back to the palace in fits and starts: the ships had reached a stalemate against Genosha's forces, and Shaw had joined them to monitor the situation firsthand. The King’s paranoia could still serve Genosha well, Erik thought, as he kept to this post and watched the Queen with interest.

Queen Frost, however, was left bored and annoyed with Erik as the only possible target of her ire. She would idly comment here and there to Erik each day as her boredom grew, even as she felt the need to sit at her throne and look out into an expanse of nothing in the room. She must have felt being in the throne room waiting would bring her sycophants, because there was no use for such a show otherwise.

“Erik, why has Sebastian not returned?” she asked as she picked at her nails. No one else had arrived - yet again he assumed - and so Erik did as he was bid to do and replied.

“Your Highness, the King needs to be certain we are not at war, that the attack was just a singular event, and a poor one at that. He cannot do that when he sits here with you. You must know that.”

She nodded agreement, but still pressed on. “If you insist. You know I have no patience for his paranoid talk of war and of Farouk. It’s just so dull without the courtiers and citizens visiting while he’s away. They’ve all retreated to their homes to ensure their safety. It’s all very silly. The fighting is far away; we won’t be affected here for days if anything is to happen.”

“I know, but we must make do with what we have, Your Highness. I am here to keep you safe while the King is away. He will return soon enough. This cannot take long, given that the battle was more a power play than a declaration of war.”

At least that was what Erik hoped for. He could not imagine spending more than a month like this with the Queen. She was a shrewd and cunning woman, but she was not pleasant company. Her idle chatter was starting to grate on him, but he said nothing as he was meant to do.

Erik looked around the room, this time void of everyone save the two of them, and waited. It was a long while before anyone came to visit, and when it happened, Erik almost flew all of the small metal pieces on his person at the intruder, sure that his power would protect the Queen at all costs.

“Your Highness, Sir, there is news.” It was one of the newer servants, unqualified for more than delivering news from place to place.

“What is it?” the Queen asked, though Erik was sure she was still bored, even if she had leaned forward to show her interest in the young man.

“Farouk’s forces did not leave their ships to come ashore. It seems it was a strange exercise. But His Majesty wants to continue to monitor Westchester from there. He bids that you two stay here and remain as such.”

Erik let out a small huff of annoyance and watched as the Queen did the same.

The servant continued, “The rest of your guard, Sir, are to stay with the King and work on fighting if the time comes. I have nothing further from the front right now.”

Without saying another word, the boy left and went back towards the rest of the house, errands to attend to, no doubt. Erik wondered if the boy had been given the news directly by Shaw himself, or had received it only secondhand, through another messenger. The idea the information could have been misunderstood gave Erik pause, but there was little he could do if the information was not as Shaw had intended it.

Erik also wondered why this news hadn’t been written down, given that there was so much possibility of getting it wrong. Wasn’t Shaw worried about spies?

That was far too strange a question to ask right now, so Erik went back to looking at the bored queen and her impassive face. Dinner, and the hours when he could get away from her, were still too far away.

Erik’s smile was a hard line, as it always was, and he waited for whatever his Queen would say next. He stood there for a long while before she spoke, and he couldn’t even remember what she had said because it was not something he had been trained to pay attention to.

-

Autumn gave way to winter. What Erik had originally thought was going to be a short tête-à-tête between Genosha and Westchester had dragged on for months. The Grand Hall looked far greyer than it had upon his first trip there without King Shaw, and Queen Frost’s moods were far worse as her time away from her King increased. She complained of the bitter chill through the Palace, the lack of courtiers and everything else loudly (and always at Erik because she lacked company).

She had even taken to trying to make sense of politics, which amused Erik greatly when she misunderstood some idea, though he knew enough to correct her. She had never seemed particularly interested in what King Shaw had said all those times that Erik had stood guard at court, but something had stuck with her and in the absence of anyone else, she was trying to work out the particulars of what her husband did and how he ruled.

She had not taken well to the trials of the country waiting for war. Shaw had ordered all spare supplies to the army. That left Queen Frost and the rest of the civilians with limited resources. So far, the standoff was unlike any other that Genosha had faced in both duration and severity. Usually it was easy to see when the war was starting and the country turned to fight en masse, but this time, it was a carefully drawn-out waiting game: one that the country was ill-prepared for, just as it was ill-suited for the temperament of the citizens.

With each passing day, the fact Queen Frost didn’t do well without newer clothes and exquisite food or the company of other vapid sycophants became inescapable. She resorted to asking Erik’s opinion on various political matters, and without much effort he tried to side-step his actual opinions. For Erik, his life had been far from ideal before he joined the King’s Guard, and so the war effort mattered little to him in comparison. He was used to eating only dry hard bread and cheese, but that was not true of Queen Frost. She had high standards and had never known that life could be cruel.

“My family came from Europe and settled here rather than Westchester. Father wanted something else.” Her confessional tone was bait, and Erik knew it, thus he said nothing. His family had had similar ideas when they were forced to leave Düsseldorf, but he thought it best not to tell the Queen they shared a common trait, especially at the moment when she longed for people to placate her with pretty words and shallow conversations.

That comment was tame compared to many of her others in the last few weeks, though no less annoying in Erik’s mind. He wanted to be fighting, or planning the fight rather than keeping watch over the King’s personal interests. Though he had to keep his real ideas very small, without Queen Frost hearing, he still felt useless and lifeless. He knew she felt equally useless, but her life had, it seemed, been like this for as long as she could remember and when faced with difficulties, she had no way to express that than with her words - her self-important words on the life of Genosha compared to that of Europe.

However, it wasn’t just the Queen who groused. The town surrounding the Palace was growing weary and tired, too. Most of the stores were already drying up and trade ships were leery of venturing into waters to trade with Wakanda because of the Westchester ships. It was hard for Erik to avoid hearing these stories because on the few off moments he had from the Queen, it was all anyone talked about.

The news had been hard on the Queen, but Erik watched as she bore it well enough. At least for a few more days.

“Erik,” she said after the Westchester ships had officially turned into a blockade around the island, “there has to be a way for some ship to get through, isn’t there?” Her tone was just shy of impertinent, and Erik knew that she hated to sound so annoyed and so out of control. She did best when she could feign disinterest in issues brought to Court rather than show any feelings or emotions he had discovered, and that he knew this when the King clearly hadn’t told Erik just how long this had all been going on; now her interest in politics and her own blight had caught her attention, and she had thoughts of her own about what her husband had gotten the country into. How much Queen Frost had hidden from her husband, Erik still didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. She had been a rather quick study when she put her mind to the knowledge that Erik had had ingrained in him since the King put him in school, even if he hadn’t said that aloud.

Erik wanted to rub his hand against his forehead for how tiresome he found the Queen’s idea of getting someone off the island, but he knew better than that. He was there to protect her and to keep her safe. Clearly food and clothing were something that was required to keep her safe (and to possibly keep her sane, though Erik hadn’t asked).

“There might be a way. I suppose a small one-manned boat could evade their notice, especially at night. Especially a boat that suggests it’s from Wakanda rather than Genosha; clearly Westchesterian boats won’t keep a Wakandan ship imprisoned here. It would have to take the long way, though. Look as if it was going home and then turn towards Westchester outside of the boat’s sight.”

In truth, he wanted nothing to do with the Queen’s idea, but he knew that she would trust no one else with the mission now that Erik had said that it had value and could be done, if careful.

“Then you should go and take a small ship and dress it in Wakandan colors, then sail and return with anything you can from a village in Westchester. You might also get some information that could prove useful to Sebastian later.” There was an unspoken part of her request that suggested she had more plans, but he said nothing because she hadn’t said them herself.

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

Erik had a new mission: to save the Queen from herself. Even if that meant he had to leave her side to do it. If King Shaw were to ever learn that Erik had left the Queen, he wasn’t sure if death was the simplest option. He couldn’t dwell, however, for he knew that the Queen’s orders were almost the same as the King’s. He would never be punished for doing what she had asked him to do.

It had taken Erik a few weeks to find that he had a clear picture of Queen Frost. But now that he had, he knew that the facade of his arrival was just that, and that there was something else to the Queen’s motives. He had yet to ask - and he wouldn’t unless she prompted him - but he had the impression that without King Shaw’s yoke, Queen Frost had her own thoughts. Vaguely, it reminded him of the woman he had caught _in flagrante delicto_ , and that was a good thing as far as he was concerned. She hadn’t always been Shaw’s feminine mouthpiece.

-

_1871_

In the dead of night, Erik left Genosha for Westchester in a rowboat with a makeshift awning of a roof and pushed off into the inky sea, heading first towards Wakanda before he would have the chance to change course. True to his original idea, the Queen had given him a list of items she needed for herself - clothes and game mostly - but that would ease her time away from King Shaw more than anything else. Queen Frost had given him more than enough gold to buy all that she could need for the rest of winter and spring, and between them they had dressed Erik in clothes that would make him look more Wakandan than Genoshan.

He had yet to shave since she had ordered this mission, and the stubble was showing, making him look haggard as ginger hairs crept out in odd places, but still not quite as a Wakandan citizen would look. If all went well, he’d never have to meet any Westchesterians in the sea on the way to their home to question the colors he wore and the colors of his ship.

Even in Wakandan colors, it was slow going, but once he had been hailed by one of the many ships in the blockade, it was no work to pass himself as a poor Wakandan man who’d been over on business before everything had gone arse over teakettle. For all that anyone could see, Erik looked the part, but it still took the men on the boat a good two hours to give him safe passage.

That meant Erik lost more time than he would have wanted. He had passed a long night of careful rowing towards the south and east before he had to correct himself north and west, but it was the price to pay for this particular mission. It would probably be the first of many like that in his way, but he could pay them very little mind when the Queen had given him a tighter time frame than he might like for something so covert.

The water, dark as it was, and lit only by the pale crescent moon, gave Erik little to work with outside of his mutation’s own pull towards North - towards Westchester. Without a motor to drive the boat, Erik continued to use a set of paddles and forced himself towards the beaches of Westchester after clearing the blockade, slow but sure even as the dark sky turned pale with first light.

The journey was longer than most trips between the two nations should have been due to the lack of a crew, the strange route, and necessary nighttime travel, but after four days, Erik’s small boat washed ashore in Westchester, near the capital city, but not too near as Erik obviously couldn’t bring his helmet to protect against Farouk’s influence. He was bone-tired and though sick of the slow crests of the waves that lapped against his boat, he felt them even as he gained land. As quickly as he could, Erik donned the Wakandan shawl again and his pouch full of gold and set off for the village closest to where he landed, eager to find a few hours of rest before his real work began.

The walk helped to clear his head and bring him more focus: there was a mission to achieve for his Queen and his country, and so he made his way down a road and into a small village with as much speed as he could manage after four days huddled into his boat and before his body collapsed from wear. There were no more than fifteen buildings in the village, not to mention the few Erik had passed after he covered his boat in some seaweed.

It almost looked too small to be a useful town, but Erik knew all too well that appearances were often misleading. He had to explore the main haunts, gather contacts for trade and information, and only then turn his feet to the next town or settlement. He had no desire to go back into the boat before he was required and so put on a smile that hid many of his darkest secrets and made for the center of town, hoping to find an inn and catch some sleep.

That was the secondary purpose of this mission: to find Westchester’s potential weakness and take it back to Genosha, though his Queen hadn’t told him to do that; he knew that he was meant to do that implicitly without her directives. He knew it was important because so few Genoshans went to visit Westchester for any prolonged visit that wasn’t approved by Farouk; all of their information had already been filtered by Farouk’s government and given that Farouk had managed to attempt a large-scale game of chicken, Erik wanted – and needed – more information for everyone at home. 

Approaching what looked like the village’s lone inn and tavern, Erik walked in, looking every bit the lost foreigner that he needed to be. It was easy to spot the inn, and for that he was extremely grateful.

The innkeeper looked him over as Erik sat down, but said nothing before bringing a large stein of ale and a plate of hard bread. Perhaps times were as hard here as they were in Genosha, since the man offered no cheese or even cured meat. Saying nothing aloud, Erik looked at the food and gave a small tight-lipped smile and nod of thanks. He tucked in and let the room’s conversations wash over him.

In one corner, there was a table full of hushed whispers, covered in half-shadows and poor candlelight, but the patrons seemed to be comfortable enough. The quiet groups as well as the boisterous few scattered around eyed the corner with caution. Eventually Erik heard someone shout, “Get out of here, you traitors! We don’t want those who won’t serve the King here. Xavier especially! You owe the King so much, even if your father never did.”

That piqued Erik’s interest, and he tried to catch a better look of the unwelcome group. Among them was a woman who looked sure of herself and ready to take on the heckler with the knives carefully tucked into her belt and boots. Another a tall man who hunched his shoulders as if to hide, and finally, a set of blue eyes that stole Erik’s breath.

Those eyes, set into the round face of a man who looked innocent enough, tried to turn away from the jab - he must be Xavier, Charles Xavier. But Erik did nothing else. It was not his place to defend those who were defending his country’s livelihood, especially not if he were dressed in Wakandan colors. There was no use in sparking a war between Westchester and Wakanda at the same time that Westchester was on Genosha’s shores.

Soon there were other whispers of how the traitors should just leave and go join Genosha, and Erik grew more curious. But he said nothing and went back to drinking his ale, stamping up breadcrumbs with his forefinger. He would do better to say nothing and let the village go about their witch hunt than to make himself a known quantity of dubious credibility. Right now he was a foreigner from the country Westchester was not fighting and that allowed him to sit in silence and be what he rarely was: a spy.

There was a conversation to be had tomorrow as he found what the Queen needed in the streets and shops, but it had to be done in a way that would not stop anyone from selling to him. He could merely be a curious and uninformed Wakandan trader who had been away from news too long to hear of any fight between the other two nations. That was simple and also provided for any additional cover he might need on the fly. But that was still only going to be useful tomorrow, so he sat back and let the tirade continue. He pushed aside tomorrow’s work for tonight’s revelations.

“I won’t stand for an unjust war,” Xavier said before he turned back around to join his small party. It was clear that there was more he could have said, but Erik admired that a man knew how to say as little as possible to speak volumes instead.

But, as the eyes and the round face tried to hide again and the voices around the inn grew louder, Erik wondered if there was something else to that man that no one in Genosha had known. His chest hadn’t stopped beating as he heard that someone was standing up to Farouk and it felt like...

Well, Erik didn’t have the words for what it might have been.

-

Sleep didn’t come fast for Erik; his mind was too consumed with the idea of dissent still being bred in Westchester and what that could mean in the long run; it was a well known fact that Farouk had not stamped out all those who opposed his rules and laws, but now that Erik had seen one of those men standing up in the city, it was becoming more and more apparent that while Farouk's power was strong, it was not absolute.

Despite all the work that Genosha had done on Brian Xavier and his family, it was never clear what Charles - or Brian - could do. But now after Erik had heard how agitating Xavier’s presence was to the village, it had to be more than a small demonstration of moving water or creating flowers. It had to be stronger and unique - unique enough to raise everyone’s hackles.

 

There were many fighters who swore their allegiance to Farouk - only the best of his citizens were sent to fight after that oath was given - and so for Xavier to have said he would not fight, the man must be a prize. To be so reviled by the few who were still left meant even more to Erik than he wanted to admit, and he turned over ideas of what Xavier could do rather than drift off.

His mind, free and unaccustomed to leisure time, found he couldn’t stop thinking of the piercing eyes or the feelings that Xavier’s words had stirred in him. He had long known that his life had a singular focus and that he lacked many social graces to be an eligible match. His fellow guardsmen had no such problems, he realized, just as the thought of Xavier's blue eyes began to stir his emotions and his long-forgotten libido.

To his mind, he never had much use for sex. His body rarely felt the pull of tension in his groin, rarely felt the attraction to another man or woman. But today, today his mind had fixated on Xavier’s visage and now he felt lost. He pulled his shirt up and saw what his body wanted. Carefully, he took himself in hand and stroked himself again and again as his mind brought up blue eyes and red lips.

It took no time at all for him to climax, and though he found the sensation ecstatic and unlike any other he had had before, he couldn’t help thinking that this reaction might divert his true focus.

Sleep, eventually, overtook him, though, with his mind on Xavier as he did.

In the cool and pale light of the morning, Erik woke restless and unwell. His mind had quieted too late into the morning for sleep to be productive, but Erik knew better than anyone that he should try to take any chances he had; his trip back to Genosha would be filled with sleeping among Queen Frost’s food and furs, rather than a straw mattress. He would not dally more than necessary, even if the feeling of the mattress would be a welcome change.

He dressed quickly and walked through town looking for the marketplace. He had all the gold that Queen Frost had given him for her needs - some fish, flour and a few choice vegetables that were not found in Genosha; her furs and as much fabric as Erik could find - and he looked around the small carts for where he should start. There were few merchants who had foxes and rabbit for furs and meat, and Erik found them soon enough as he walked. There were only a few of those who traded in furs alone, and so Erik carefully paid for a few pieces that would best suit the Queen’s white wardrobe and then added a few other items that would be better for food, leaving sartorial considerations second. Still, even the dullest fur could line a wardrobe - perhaps his own. 

While milling around the market, voices continued to complain about Xavier’s inability to fight for King and Country. Now that Xavier was out of earshot, Erik learned the man was a telepath - almost as powerful a mutant as King Farouk - and that he refused to fight because he hated the King and was actively continuing in his father's footsteps.

It was treason, or close enough, Erik knew for Xavier’s potential defection, but the town seemed uninterested in turning the man over to the law or to the Palace itself. Or perhaps there was no use in turning him in because Farouk knew and couldn't do anything to stop Xavier from being a member of the country's small opposition.

The topic of conversation drifted from Xavier to another name, Henry McCoy. He must have been the other man at their table, Erik surmised. McCoy had superhuman speed and strength, and as soon as Erik overheard that, he was thankful that the fellow had not fought for Westchester. He would have been a challenge for all of his guards and friends had he been one of the men on the ships just offshore. 

Erik continued to walk around and look for vegetables and flour, but all he focused on were the conversations about the traitors. There were more than just the two men, he learned.

“You know Xavier’s sister is a ‘shifter. She’s perfect for espionage, and yet here she stays. Fools!” That was by far the tamest of the insults thrown at Xavier and his friends, but it spoke to Erik of just how disappointed the village had been in that group's defiance to Farouk's will.

It made Erik question the safety of the Palace without him, for if there was one shapeshifter in Westchester, there might be others, too. Who was to say that Xavier's sister was not the only one? Would Queen Frost be safe without him?

He finished all of the Queen’s required shopping and as the town slept for a few hours between lunch and dinner, he carefully stowed his loot and returned to the inn for a quick respite before he sailed back to Genosha’s shores.

He stayed close to the inn for one last meal, in hopes of seeing Xavier one more time, and settled at a single table with ale and salted fish. The room was as rowdy as it had been the night before, but as soon as Xavier walked in with the same companions as before, a hush fell.

“Get out!” the innkeeper shouted, but Erik watched as Xavier stood his ground.

“I will not be forced to leave my home because I choose to disobey the King. I will not.” He walked to the same corner table they had occupied the previous night and began to whisper to each of his friends.

Erik said nothing and took in the rising din that washed away the tension from Xavier’s entrance. The feelings that had settled into Erik’s mind the night before returned, tenfold this time, his mind a mix of lust and admiration that made little sense to him.

He still had no clear idea of what he felt for Xavier outside of his body's physical reaction, but he knew that Xavier was wasted in a country like this. Convictions ought to be rewarded, not faulted or jeered at.

If only there were a way for Erik to discuss defection with Xavier. If only.

Erik’s thoughts of how to talk to Xavier, however, were cut off by a sharp icy thought from Queen Frost.

_I have finished reading all of the books in Sebastian's library and have no one to talk to about them. Make haste!_

Erik put Xavier's group out of his mind and hastened to his boat to begin the slow voyage home.

-

The return trip was so - painfully slow - but Erik did his best to return with the Queen’s goods. He had found himself weary as he paddled each night and tried to sleep each day. He was grateful to once again be on dry land and even happier that all of the citizens had given him room to stride through the halls. It was easy then to collapse on his bed and welcome the small comforts he had.

Whatever he felt about Xavier from those two brief encounters only multiplied upon his return to Genosha; his body still clamored for release each time he thought of closing his eyes. The man’s eyes - as bright and true as they were - haunted his dreams, staring at him night after night. There was no escaping Xavier now, no matter how hard he tried. His mind held fast to the images even as his hand found his hardening erection and worked himself off to the memory.

He couldn’t remember a time when he had felt such a reaction to someone before, at least not since he was a young boy discovering that the firm breasts of the milk maidens did nothing to stir his libido, while the stable boys were always of interest. But that was years ago, and as the leader of the King’s Guard, there was little time for dalliances or trysts. He knew that his fellow guards had no such qualms, but he was their leader and had to set some kind of example. Now, however, he could not deny that something had happened to him with Xavier. And there was only one thing it could be: love or some quick approximation of it.

It pained him to see himself fall so quickly and so hard when he met the Queen each morning knowing that he had no place for his new affections, and so Erik pushed the memories away and set about to entertaining the Queen and making sure that his life work had not been for naught. He knew his obsession was ill-timed and ill-advised, but he was grateful the Queen was so interested in the new food and finery that his sour mood affected no one but himself.

She had given him time after he returned before he was expected to visit her and make his presentation. He hadn’t thought much of it - lost in his own mind - but the Queen’s command home had been insistent, yet she had not forced himself to see her until three days later.  
He presented what he had found to her as if he were one of those citizens seeking the King and Queen’s counsel, one small reminder of what had been the norm before King Farouk’s attack.

"Thank you, Erik, for everything that you brought back. It will be most helpful in the coming months. It has been far too long since anyone has given me more than five minutes. But before you return to my side, have a look at what has changed since you left."

It was all the dismissal he needed and went about looking around as if there were changes to the place that he had missed before. To his surprise, there were few such displays, but he made a point not to tell the Queen that he had found them.

Again, he filled his days doing his duty of guarding the Palace. He tried not to think of Xavier as he walked his rounds, but in times of solitude, that face and that determined voice haunted him. He could almost swear that Xavier whispered to him, though that was impossible, since the blockade kept everything else out and kept Genosha in. It troubled him to think that he was so affected and he again tried to forget all about Xavier before he returned to the Queen’s side. He wasn’t sure how well he recreated his usual stoic demeanor, but he hoped it was good enough.

Or at least he thought no one noticed until he walked into the Grand Hall after this patrol. 

“Erik, your poor mood is ruining my good one. What’s making you fouler than usual?”

He wanted to ignore the question, but he knew better than to ignore the Queen’s requests. “I have been preoccupied, that is all, Your Highness.”

“But what has your attention? Whatever it is, you’re hiding it well.”

“I feel that it is a private matter of mine.”

“Nonsense. If you won’t tell me, I’ll just have to see what you’re thinking about. Dig a little as it was, because you’re trying not to think about it; I can tell.” As she said it, Erik felt ice inching over his shoulders and creeping into his mind. He had had enough experience with the Queen’s telepathy when he was just a young guard. Back then she had found and exploited all the terrors of his youth - his parents’ deaths and his uncle’s defection to Westchester. This time was no less invasive than before, only now she moved with precision.

“Oh, you found someone! In Westchester. How sad.” Her mental presence didn’t disappear and she continued, “But he’d support us. However shall we get him here, Erik?” It was so unlike her to ask a question that might get Erik what he wanted, but now that he thought through it, Queen Frost had said that she’d read all of the King’s books. Perhaps intrigue and gamesmanship had entered her realm of knowledge during his sojourn.

“I do not wish him to be forced here, Your Highness. I also have no time for some minor fling. I still have my duty to you to fulfill.”

“It’s not forcing him here if we do something else at the same time. You also could do with a fling. You’ve been too dedicated to Sebastian’s cause since I have known you. Loosen up a bit.” She paused, but looked ready to say more. He didn’t want to ask how she knew that he had had few opportunities, because the answer was freezing his body as she kept herself inside his mind, but he wondered now if Xavier could protect him from the likes of the Queen. Was he that strong?

Soon enough the ice that he always felt when she was inside his mind faded away and Erik was left to look at his Queen in mild annoyance.

“But, to your first point, I’m tired of this stalemate and Sebastian has sent no word in a fortnight. I suggest we try something else. If this something else works as it should, we could have your little Xavier here sooner than you thought. And of his own free will.”

Erik regarded his Queen as she finished and noticed how icy her own body had become. “What did you have in mind, Your Highness?”

“How about a little revolution, Erik?”

Erik chilled at the idea, but said nothing else. He had no clue the Queen was that ruthless, but she had clearly been busy while he was en route to Westchester and back. Instead, he just watched as his Queen went completely diamond and her telepathy returned to his mind and the minds of everyone else on the island he could only imagine.

-

_People of Genosha:_

_Your King Sebastian has abandoned you for too long. His obsession with Farouk and Westchester has been to your detriment. He is no longer your king as one of his own has killed him on the fields awaiting battle._

_Without anyone else to rule, I will step up and be your leader._

_All Hail Queen Frost!_

The message was short, but Erik found it effective. The streets were filled with people, all cheering and celebrating the Queen’s sole reign. It was as if the citizens had forgotten all that Shaw had done for them in this twenty plus years of rule, but if Erik really thought through the idea, Shaw had done little to help the average citizenry. Shaw cared only for those who could wield power, and hopefully Queen Frost would be different.

But as he looked at her after the message, he saw her trying to reach farther than Genosha itself. Her diamond form creaked and torqued itself as she stretched her range. Erik had no clue if she had reached the other islands, and he wouldn’t know until she came back to her regular form; she was impossible to talk to as a diamond, especially if she was trying to extend her telepathy.

Five full minutes after changing into diamond, the Queen suddenly turned back into flesh and blood. “I was only able to reach a man in a manor called Greymalkin, near Salem, where you went to get my things. The man had heard that Farouk had used Logan - somehow - to kill King Sebastian just yesterday; it seems that my plans for a revolution were a bit late in execution. However, the idea still stands. I am Queen and I must negotiate a peace treaty now. I will not send more men to fight when what Farouk must have wanted was Sebastian out of the picture. He has it now, and I am not as easy to manipulate as Sebastian was in battle – helmet or not.

“Suing for peace is not ideal, but it will bring your colleagues home, and if I can send another message off to Wakanda, it will be possible to have dissenters from Westchester included in the process to determine an appropriate peace. What do you say to that?”

Erik simply nodded. He had nothing else to say on the matter of how Xavier was to be brought here. This was not the time to think about how, or in what way, Logan was able to kill Shaw. That would wait until Logan returned to the barracks.

-

Through means that Erik was sure he wasn’t meant to understand or process fully, Farouk had found out that Emma had taken over the throne of Genosha while holding Shaw fast in his grip, just long enough for Logan to kill Shaw with one single claw through the heart. The details of how Logan’s helmet had disappeared were not disclosed, though Erik was sure that was simply because his oldest friend and second-in-command had no use for the helmet against his healing powers, though Erik couldn’t be sure. Regardless of how Logan had killed King Shaw, the Westchesterian blockade disappeared hours later and life began to return to normal in Genosha.

Trade resumed, or so Erik was told before he saw the Palace food improve. Courtiers and those sycophants from before returned to woo the newly ruling Queen. His fellow guardsmen all walked back, tired and weary from the shore, each looking as though the battles were nearly too much.

But outside of the fighters' haggard appearances, it was as if Shaw’s rule had been forgotten. It made Erik uneasy for a moment, but he tried to push aside the death of Shaw like he did all events that were reminders of his past: soon enough he could forget Shaw’s misguided treatment through the years just as he could forget what tragedy had befallen his parents and sister. What pain his uncle put him through.

Queen Frost helped, though Erik was loath to admit that. As he now led the Queen's Guard, she kept him by her side as she worked through the process of organizing peace summit meetings that she desperately required to maintain her legitimate rule. Wakanda had been more than willing to help bring some dissenters from Westchester into the process, as citizens who could accurately see both Westchester’s and Genosha’s positions in the battle. Queen Ororo, Erik heard, was set to lead the process and that settled some of his uneasiness.

But the uneasiness about Xavier arriving still nagged at him, still made him unsure and he questioned his own mind and why he was so compelled by Xavier.

“So now that we’re set with the process of getting your Xavier here, Erik, what should we do with him?” She had a look in her eyes since Shaw’s death that told Erik she was plotting something mysterious and underhanded. He had no real need for that. He simply wanted to talk to the man and see if there was something that sparked for Xavier as much as it had for himself. If something could come of the two of them together.

There was no reason to create an elaborate scheme, and he expressed as much to the Queen.

“But that won’t do for me, you see, Erik. Your happiness means more to me than you know. Or perhaps you do since you worked so hard to keep me pleased while that now-deceased idiot was having a pissing contest in the ocean with Farouk. You deserve more than a conversation. You deserve...” and then she paused perilously.

“You deserve a marriage!” she exclaimed.

Erik coughed, caught by surprise. “Your Majesty, no, that is not what I deserve. I only followed orders.”

“And these orders also went against what Sebastian had told you so think of this as a gift from me to you. Since I know you want this so badly. I can tell that your mind has been preoccupied. I can also tell that whatever tension you held after returning from Westchester had dissipated once the peace treaty was more formalized. I can put one and one together to get two.” She added a wink after that, and Erik flushed. He had no need for the Queen to know how much he had taken to thinking about Xavier since the process of creating this treaty began or how much he enjoyed thinking about Xavier.

“Since you seem to have a problem with my way of getting you what you want, you aren’t to come with me to the negotiations. Logan can come; he’ll strike fear into whoever Farouk sends. I will also have no trouble if Farouk himself appears. We psionics can only do so much against another without wearing ourselves out.”

“As you wish,” Erik said and started to walk back towards the barracks. He might do well with some time off.

“Of course, Erik, I’ll let you know how everything goes. I’ve seen that Xavier’s step-father, Kurt Marko, is to represent Farouk. I also know that there’s a reason Xavier doesn’t see that man often. He might well be better off here than in Westchester. And not just because you deserve to be happy.”

Erik had heard little of Marko while in Salem, but that meant nothing. He had only heard of Xavier because of how demonstrative the man had been in protesting Farouk’s plans. But knowing that Xavier had had a difficult time gave him hope that once they were alone they would find common ground.

He still wasn’t sure if a wedding was what he wanted.

_By the way, Erik. You’ll have a new title. We’re going to need you to hone your skills as a spy and as private security, rather than just a pawn in the guard. You’re now the head of my Royal protection, and a Colonel to make it more official. But that will be a transition to be made after the wedding. Just a title now. One that will impress some of the Westchester delegation, I assume._

-

His new title and placement came just as everyone from the shore returned to the Palace. Logan, thankfully, hadn’t been placed in chains for killing King Shaw under Farouk’s power, but as Erik watched his friends and colleagues walk in through the gate, it was clear that Logan was _persona non grata_.

It would do no good for everyone, including whoever took over Erik’s position as head guardsmen to resent any of the other men, especially since the Queen’s power needed to remain stable through the peace talks.

Erik mulled the idea before he made the decision to just seek out the returning men and have them all for a drink - or five or ten - and to discuss what had happened. Missing out on the action still rankled Erik’s nerves, and despite what Queen Frost was doing for him now with Charles, it had been hardest to not be part of the action. He never sat well for long stretches of time, and he still hated that Queen Frost had kept him from the fight, even if he had found Charles in the process.

The group of four men left Erik’s line of sight and so he ambled through the Palace and towards the barracks in his new uniform, still stiff and awkward against his skin. He had only been given this new uniform three days before, and it would take him far longer than that to adjust to the epaulets and sash against his chest. He felt himself, though, walking a bit taller nonetheless.

The trappings were meaningless to his colleagues and the men who had risked their lives for the sake of Genosha’s future, though. He wanted to ditch the jacket, but knew that it would reflect poorly on his new command.

He strode into the barracks and yelled, “What is this? You don’t bother to see your new superior officer? However can I punish you lot?”

“The fuck is this news?” Logan asked as he looked up from his pack, still mostly in order from their journey.

“Seems like we all missed something,” Armando added as Erik watched another set of eyes follow the new uniform.

“Yes, we did. Which is why you’re all on liberty for the night and we’re going drinking,” Erik said. He waited a few seconds before he added, “My treat.”

“You got it, Colonel Lehnsherr,” Logan said as he mock saluted Erik’s new rank. The rest of the group - Alex and Warren especially - were mumbling something, but Erik didn’t want to pry too much. They all had much to discuss and in his friends’ living quarters was not the best place for it.

“You have five minutes to meet me back at the gates before we go to Hellfire and drink poor Remy out of all his best ale.” Erik walked out then, leaving them to their unpacking or whatever else they wanted to do.

As he saw that throne room empty, he felt a hint of the Queen’s mental tapping. _Going somewhere Erik?_

_Just taking out my colleagues for some ale and conversation, Your Majesty._

_Sounds like you’ll all be worse for wear tomorrow. But while you’re there, do tell Logan he has your old job. He might as well get used to that tomorrow morning._

_He’ll just love it,_ Erik sent back, and then laughed. Even if Logan’s mind had been overtaken by Farouk to kill Shaw, his second-in-command would not like being so close to another psionic. But that wasn’t Erik’s problem now. He had a new job and before he dug deep into it, he wanted one last carefree night with his friends.

True to form, they all arrived at the gates within the five minutes and soon they were off for Hellfire.

“So, what’d you have to do to get the new title?” Logan asked as they were walking. Erik was sure Logan knew him well enough to not think that Erik slept with the Queen, but given that they hadn’t been around each other in months, it was possible.

“I ran an errand for the Queen while you all were fighting. But that was before I didn’t say no to her idea of a revolution.”

“We all felt that while we were fighting at the end. That was cold,” Alex said.

“Well, I didn’t do much more than not laugh at her idea. Even while I was gone, the Queen formed her own opinions. But let’s not discuss them so loudly in the open air. Inside?” Erik flicked the door to the tavern open quickly and let everyone inside before he joined them.

“Remy, be so kind as to bring us five ales and keep refilling them.”

Without so much as a nervous tick, Remy did as Erik instructed and a small girl, Anna Marie, brought the drinks over.

“Thank you dear,” Logan said with a lecherous look in his eyes.

“She’s a child, Logan,” Erik whispered.

“Man has needs, but you wouldn’t know that,” Logan replied.

“Actually,” Erik began. He wanted to avoid the topic, but knowing it would happen sooner or later.

“No, spill,” Warren said.

“Well, it all happened when I went into a town in Westchester, at the Queen’s request, to get her food and furs,” Erik started before he took a large sip of his ale. “There was a dissenter in the inn - Charles Xavier - and some of his friends.”

“And that one night got you laid?” Armando asked, and now Erik wanted nothing more than to stop the train of this conversation.

“No, but I think I fell in love.”

It was simple, and now that he had the Queen’s ear on the matter. He had fallen in love with Charles on the first day and had only recently found a way to make something of his feelings.

“You’re whipped and you haven’t even done anything. Fuck this is great!” Alex said in between sips of his drinks, another tankard of ale in his other hand.

“Not true. But that’s there’s nothing else to say on that matter. What happened to you all? Skip Logan’s story, we all know it,” Erik said and let himself settle into stories of the war from the front lines.

-

It had been weeks since the Queen had started the process of the peace treaty, and only a few days since everyone had arrived to negotiate the details in earnest. He was allowed nowhere near the process, per his Queen’s orders, and so it gave Erik time to discover more than just the physical features of the man who had so captured his heart. There were few written histories of families of Westchester available in Genosha, but as the new head of the Secret Service, Erik had been able to request information about all of the delegates under the pretense of royal security, especially when he couldn't stand next to Charles and the others of his group during the treaty. As far as excuses went, it wasn't half-bad, even if it wasn't entirely correct.

However, reading about Charles Francis Xavier – and the rest of his delegation, Raven Darkholme, Moira MacTaggart, and Henry McCoy – was enough to make Erik fall further in love with Charles than he had before.

Charles’ father had been a gifted architect and engineer, nearly coerced to move to Westchester when Charles’ telepathy was discovered at birth. Farouk, who held many Europeans in similar positions, had offered Brian Xavier and his wife, Sharon, a sanctuary and a place where their son would be free. Too bad that had not been so true. Farouk had wanted to use Charles' telepathy for his own ends. In report after report, Erik read that Brian had resisted that at every turn, but just after Charles’ seventh birthday, Brian was killed in an accident while constructing a new wing of Farouk’s palace.

Erik saw that for what it was – a hidden assassination – and it made more sense when one of Farouk’s trusted advisors, Kurt Marko, married Charles’ mother. From there, Charles’ life was harder to track, but Erik found references to how many time Charles had apparently “fallen” in medical records before he found that Charles had left his family home without ceremony.

It turned Erik’s stomach to know that a ruler could try to abuse and coerce a citizen so strongly, especially when he thought of his own life after manifesting. King Shaw had never been easy to get along with, but he had never made Erik feel as if he was doing wrong by joining the Guard when he had no family left after his initial schooling ended.

All of the readings only endeared Charles more to him. He was also determined to wash away the years of ridicule and derision that must have been part of Charles’ life long before he refused to fight.

He wrote letters quickly to various people in Salem, finding out as much as he could about Xavier there before anything else could be done, but when it was all complete, Erik was sure of his own decision, especially without the Queen's help.

There were a few more carefully worded letters to Westchester about needing to be sure of Xavier’s intentions and how many declarations he had made against Farouk, and soon the designs of Charles’ home at Greymalkin were in his hands for no other reason than someone wished to never have to be reminded of Charles Xavier existing in Westchester otherwise.

That started him on one project that he was sure the Queen would have no trouble agreeing to. He hated to interrupt the proceedings, but if things continued at the same pace, Charles would only be in town for another two weeks, if they were lucky.

_Your Majesty, I wish to leave the barracks and have myself and Charles set up in a few new rooms in the Palace, as befitting my new position. Is that a problem?_

He waited a while and then felt ice inching towards him. _Marko, the blowhard, claiming that because Farouk killed Shaw before I took over, the meeting is pointless and my suing for peace irrelevant. Your boy is doing a fair job of shutting that idea down. You chose well. But what do you need?_

He thought for a minute. _Just four or five rooms that I can have for our use. There are some renovations that will need to be done as well._

_Take a few of the rooms that were meant for dignitaries in the East Wing. A few floors below my rooms. Will that be good?_

_That will be most excellent, Your Majesty._ He paused and then asked the other question that had been on his mind. _How is your plan for me coming?_

He heard her mentally chuckle before she said anything. _Right now, Xavier’s so worked up over how stupid Marko sounds that there hasn’t been a chance to discuss you. Queen Ororo and Logan know what they have to do when the time is right. It just won’t be right for a visiting foreigner to disrespect my most trusted Colonel, will it?_

Erik laughed a bit and then said, _No, Your Majesty. That won’t do._ He had to laugh at how Queen Frost was to get him married if nothing else. That was the only reason why he was laughing right now.

There was nothing left to say because Erik knew Genoshan laws well enough. Insulting high-ranking officials (though before it had been used for the King and Queen only) was punishable however the ruler saw fit. It almost hurt, thinking that Charles’ punishment for saying something about Erik would be a wedding, but his mind had not stopped imagining what it would be like to have that determined mind as his confidant and colleague rather than as an adversary.

Pushing that idea aside, though, Erik went back to studying the designs and figuring out whom among the mutants in Genosha would be most useful in helping to recreate Charles’ home here in the Palace.

-

Despite all of his work to convert some rooms to his and Charles’ (really Charles’) tastes, Erik had heard little of the status of the peace negotiations as they were drawing to a close. As with all things related to the Queen, he was sure that when the moment came that Charles slipped up and she was forced to react, Erik would have been patched in to watch it (or at least given access to her memories so that he could relive it himself).

But that hadn’t happened yet. He had to remind himself that it was a yet. The Queen, along with Queen Ororo and Logan, were well-versed in how to coax even the smallest slip from someone when it was convenient, and with the treaty nearly complete, Erik had started to worry that his work, along with the work of many other mutants around the capital, would have been for naught.

He knew he couldn’t stand to see Charles leave without saying anything – not that he had spoken a word to Charles in the first place in all this time. But the point still stood: Erik had found that having Charles so close, and yet so far away, had only increased his feelings. He could no longer go a day without thinking of Charles’ eyes, or the voice of conviction he had heard in Salem, or the Queen’s memory of what Charles wore to each session.

Erik found that he liked the slightly outdated fashions that Charles chose to wear: his waistcoats were not quite up to the rest of Genoshan court standards, but still passable. He also found that Charles’ shirts were always slightly rumpled, as if he had no valet around to help keep them pressed and clean; that also agreed with Erik who had spent too long wearing the same set of shirts and pants on a daily basis. That wasn’t to say that Erik didn’t know or understand fashion, it was just that until now he had no use for it.

His new role, however, had rid Erik of any of his old ideas, hard as they might be to break. A young man, John, had been given to Erik as a valet, and along with his new title and role, the Queen had found time to see Erik fitted for a wardrobe that would make him look in line with some courtiers that would visit the Queen. He was no longer required to look like a military man, even if that was his training, and he still held a rank and title even if he wore regalia on occasions.

All of these thoughts, Erik realized, were ways to distract himself and he was feeling unmoored with the rooms nearly complete and no word from the Queen. He decided that he would ask and hope for the best rather than fidget in the rooms as the day drew to a close.

_Your Majesty, is there any news? The negotiations are set to conclude tomorrow._

He felt that he was perhaps being a little impertinent, but then he remembered that he had been so shy when revealing his thoughts to the Queen before she had helped to bolster his ego. He was only acting as she would want him to in this case. He might tell her that she had created a monster: one who could no longer find life without a partner worthwhile.

 _Well, you can just watch as the rest of today plays out, then._ She said nothing else, but let him see what she was seeing.

Charles was sitting next to McCoy and MacTaggart, and as far away from Marko as possible. That was interesting. Charles’ side of the delegation was looking not to advance Marko’s goals – and by extension Farouk’s – but their own. Queen Ororo was placed between Marko and Charles’ group which left Queen Frost carefully sitting next to MacTaggart.

It was refreshing to see Westchesterians who were not afraid of their own leader.

“Your Majesty,” Marko said, “it seems that the last bit of work we must discuss is monetary. King Farouk will not allow your country to go without paying for the lost munitions.”

At that, both Charles and Queen Frost scoffed. "I don't see why Genosha must pay," she said, "when we instigated no conflict, but merely defended ourselves."

“Farouk has already agreed to everything you have suggested to this point. He will not come out of it empty-handed.” Even through the Queen’s mind there was a petulance to Marko that Erik hated and wished to never see again.

“If I may suggest,” Charles started, “it would be possible for some smaller compensation, perhaps?”

“And where am I to collect such a sum? Surely you can't think that we must have some kind of hidden reserves. Or do you think that my Colonel could create wealth out of thin air?”

“Surely he must be able to do something, Your Majesty,” Charles muttered under his breath.

“What was that Mister Xavier. I didn’t hear you.”

“It was nothing.”

“I think that impossible. You haven’t even had the pleasure of meeting my Colonel, have you? People have told me he is quite handsome. That is, when he doesn’t look like a bull in a china shop.”

“He must be good for a ride then, Your Majesty.”

Erik had to take a minute to laugh at what Charles had said, and even mentally applauded the Queen for her choice of words.

“Are you insulting my Colonel? Why, I do believe that you are. Such impertinence shall not be tolerated. There are laws to protect Genoshans from slander such as yours, especially from foreigners. It will be his decision what to do with you. For your sake I hope he is kind.

“Back to your point, Lord Marko," Queen Frost continued, "Genosha will pay nothing to your country if your citizens are not well-versed on our customs. Perhaps your King should do well to learn about Genosha before he thinks of attacking us again.”

With that, Erik watched as the mental projection he was seeing moved and the Queen left the room.

_You didn’t need to scare him so much, Your Majesty. But I suppose that was part of your play._

He felt her give him a nod of agreement. _We’ll wait a few hours to tell him of the wedding. Plus, that gives us time to dismiss everyone else. His friends are well-meaning, but you know they won’t be allowed to stay. Sebastian had some strange ideas, but I see no reason to change custom now. Outsiders aren’t welcome at such private matters._

_I do understand. I just hope we can find a way for them to help us later. They are already going to get a great deal of Farouk’s ire._

_Perhaps the King will actually berate that idiot Marko instead. That man is useless. It’s no wonder your Charles hates the man._

Erik had nothing left to say to that, and so he tried to suggest that he now had many things to plan for the wedding. It would have to be tomorrow, just before sunset. Or else wait until Sunday. He knew he couldn’t wait until Sunday.

-

On a cool and crisp Friday afternoon, Erik was standing at the front of the Great Hall with a rabbi from somewhere on the island standing before him, and a chuppah held over his head.

John and a few of the Queen’s other staff had seen to dressing him in what would be the finest suit he ever wore: dove grey with a waistcoat of deep purple and a top hat to match, though the hat was currently being held by Logan just behind him. He figured he looked every bit as en mode as baselines in Europe, though he was sure that none of them could say that the silk of the waistcoat was spun by a woman who lived in the center of the island, rather than silkworms.

The Queen was sitting just to the side of the chuppah, looking regal in one of her many white gowns, this time fitted with a small purple capelet outlined in ermine. He was impressed that she would wear something that wasn’t white today.

 _I must make a show of looking as a Queen for my newest citizen,_ she mentally told him. Erik had a small laugh at that, because of course the splash of color was for Charles’ benefit and not the rest of the nation.

_Do stop thinking of other things now, Erik. Your husband-to-be had quite a time with the staff I sent to him. He wasn’t too happy with the tugging and pulling to get his hair more like your first memory. Though, of course, he doesn’t know that’s why it was done._

Erik had nothing to say to that and so he simply turned his attention from her throne off on the side towards the large doors that usually opened to greet those citizens seeking council. The doors remained closed and Erik had to force himself to unclench his fists to keep from rubbing his clammy hands against the new suit. There was a sudden burst of what Erik knew to be a telepathic sweep and he stopped his hands from reacting and from reaching for any weapons that were on the others in the gallery so far.

 _Oh dear!_ Emma said a moment later. _He’s nervous too. And powerful. It took him only a second to feel me after he reached out. I hope you let him into your mind more easily than you let me._

 _As you wish, Your Majesty._ It was cheeky, and bordered on insolent, but Erik couldn’t find the place to care when he knew that Charles would be walking down the aisle soon and they would be married.

In a moment, though, the doors opened and Charles began to walk towards Erik and the rabbi. Erik was impressed with Charles’ deep grey suit, and even more impressed with the deep blue of his waistcoat. That spot of blue was the only reminder of where Charles was from, and after today Erik knew that Charles would find little use for the Westchesterian colors.

Charles arrived, looking half dazed and unfocused, before the rabbi spoke. “We are here today to witness the union of Colonel Erik Magnus Lehnsherr of Genosha and Charles Francis Xavier, Esquire of Westchester.”

Erik knew that the man was going on about the fidelity of marriage and how G-d smiled on those who heeded His word. There were prayers in Hebrew that he said along with the rabbi half-heartedly, but he snapped back to attention when the rabbi mentioned that it was time for vows and the rings.

“I promise to love, cherish and adore you, Charles Francis. I promise to always protect you, and keep your counsel in our life together. I promise you a life unmarred by marital strife and I promise to give myself to you, now and forever.”

The words were shaky and he was sure that the sentiment was too soft for one of his new station, but Erik found he couldn’t have cared less. Charles, this close, was a marvel and a gift. His ring – one he had fashioned for Charles out of a few pieces of Westchesterian silver and gold – slid easily onto Charles’ finger.

When the rabbi asked for Charles’ vows, Erik was shocked to hear a simple, “I promise to love and honor my husband. To keep him in good health. I vow to give myself to you, now and forever.” There was a lack of conviction in the sentiment, but Erik realized that Charles had no idea of how deep and long Erik’s affections had been around. He made a note to dote on him and provide more than enough physical evidence of how real this was.

“Now, in the sight of G-d I pronounce you husband and husband. Together please, smash the glass here,” the rabbi said and Erik waited for Charles’ foot to rise before he did the same and together they broke the last ties to their former lives as separate individuals.

Together they were unstoppable.

They walked hand in hand out of the Great Hall and into one of the small receiving rooms for the reception, though Erik wished that this part could be forgotten so that he could finally speak to Charles alone. He knew it odd that even now, they had never shared a word together, but the Queen had made certain of a feast and it would not do to show her up in her first official appearance as sole ruler of Genosha.

Guests were quick to greet him and Charles, and before long, the room was full of food and drink. It was odd to see the room so alive after so many months of solitude, and at each moment, Erik looked at Charles – still wearing a dazed expression – and felt at peace.

With the food eaten quickly Erik took Charles out for a simple dance – he knew he had no claims at being a real courtier – but Charles followed gracefully and smiled with a dreamy expression.

By some small mercy Charles’ mind was focused enough to put a small piece of the cake into Erik’s mouth (and Erik would cherish that moment when Charles’ fingers brushed over Erik’s lips) and soon more guests were wishing them well and clearing the room.

It was nearly dusk when all was over, and they were able to finally slip into their rooms for the evening. Erik let his mood show in his features, and assumed that Charles’ telepathy could pick up on how elated he was at the process of finally taking Charles to their rooms.

“How should I address you in public?” Charles asked before they arrived at the door leading towards the hallway, and Erik had to look at him as if that question was so outrageous. But then he changed his expression, realizing that Charles knew nothing.

“Erik will be fine,” he said before he fit his hand to the small of Charles' back, hoping the gesture felt reassuring rather than awkward. There were plans ahead for the two of them. Erik moved them quickly through the halls and into their rooms, as if his life were dependent on Charles knowing how much this marriage was not as arranged as it appeared.

The door opened quickly under Erik’s powers and Erik stood behind Charles as Charles surveyed the room.

An audible gasp broke from Charles’ lips. It was as close as Erik could have gotten to Charles’ rooms without having seen them himself and at this point he knew that the work had been good. Excellent, even.

“How?” Charles asked, voice cracking as the single syllable left his mouth.

Erik felt himself grow anxious and excited at Charles’ reaction but found that it took longer for words to come. “You have been on my mind for many years, Charles. But with things as they were, I could not approach you as I should have.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but close enough for now. In time, he would tell Charles that the years had been only months, but that the rest was more than true.

Charles made another sound that was half a gasp and half something else. “You meant to court me, even though there was a war going on?”

Erik nodded his agreement and moved closer to Charles. He felt something in him change – though it was difficult to say what it was – but the result was his head moving closer to Charles’, breathing out a ragged sound before he pressed his lips to Charles’. Charles responded in kind, and the kiss that they shared was filled with a passion and a spark that Erik had thought only existed in romance novels and tawdry tales from inns and alleys.

Charles’ mind, unconsciously, clamored at the attention that Erik was devoting to the kiss and Erik let that spur him on. His hands ghosted over the fine fabric of Charles’ suit and vest before he even caught that Charles was mentally saying something.

_How did you know I would make a joke about you?_

_I didn’t, but it was easy for Her Majesty to make a comment that such a remark would require a wedding. She knew of my fondness._ Again, it wasn’t the total truth, but enough that Charles would know that this was no joke.

After the statement hung between them, Charles pulled away. “You convinced the Queen to say that we must be married?”

All Erik could do was nod and then added, “It was the only way I knew it could happen. I hope this doesn’t bother you.” That was the biggest of his fears after the Queen had hatched this plan. That Charles would reject the bizarre means of courtship and the rushed relationship.

“I like it very much. Now, if I made such an off-color joke, I should like to know if it is true.”

Erik moved back, did a slow turn to show off his features and as he came back to face Charles, Erik felt his face flush and his mind turning over the passion and adoration that he felt. It must have made its way to Charles for he smiled.

Erik extended one hand – an invitation – and waited for Charles to take it before they made their wedding official in the eyes of G-d and all of Genosha.

-

Charles' hand felt warm next to his as they walked, slowly, towards the large bedroom off to one side of their new apartment. It wasn't as though Erik knew the finer points of how to properly convey his love for Charles, but now that they were married, Erik knew he had ample opportunities.

"What will we do?" Charles asked quietly when they finally walked into their bedroom.

"I," Erik started, but then stopped. "Would it be too coy of me to say I'd like to kiss you more?"

Charles had a sly smile on his face. "Not at all. I liked that very much earlier." It was all Erik needed before he sat himself against the mattress and carefully positioned Charles to sit atop his lap.

 _You're perfect,_ he mentally said before he pulled Charles closer to him.

 _Hardly that,_ was all Charles could muster before Erik began to pepper kisses along Charles' cheeks, his nose, his neck.

 _To me, you are._ It was an honest declaration, and as he said it, Erik opened his mind as if to prove the point. He let his memories of their first encounter spring forward, now colored even more with his own admiration and respect.

 _You were there?_ Charles asked, though Erik knew that at the moment he wanted to forgo that conversation and explore each other more fully.

 _Later? I think we're otherwise engaged right now._ To prove the point, Erik moved his hands up from the small of Charles' back and began to scatter caresses and a light pinch or two along Charles' flanks, as he continued to kiss along Charles' neck.

 _Wanker!_ Charles replied, but Erik felt, more than he knew outright, that it was meant in jest.

_We'll table that talk for later I think._

He had many ideas, and he wasn't sure how he would manage them all today. As if Charles had been paying attention he heard, _We have all the time we need, it seems,_ and soon Charles was trying to find his own ways to tease and coax Erik's body.

Erik happily let Charles explore his body, and reveled in how it felt to know another person who made his heart beat faster and who made him keen and moan in response.

His hands felt as if they were moving of their own will, as he ghosted them up and down Charles' torso before he finally realized they were still far too dressed for their wedding night. Quickly, he popped a button of two from Charles' waistcoat and then felt around for the metal fasteners he had suggested go into Charles' trousers and slipped those free.

There was a desperate need to feel _more_ of Charles, and Erik wouldn't deny himself now. Not when he finally had something that he wanted.

 _You'll hear no complaints from me,_ Charles said as one of Erik's hands started to pull Charles free from his trousers and everything else that separated them from each other's naked bodies.

Charles' comment reminded him of a real fear he had - that Charles would not reciprocate what Erik himself felt - and to hear that there was no objection was all Erik needed. His hand found Charles' hardening prick and with a few careful strokes, Erik had something he had only dreamed of.

 _You're still wearing too much,_ Charles projected, as Erik realized the statement was true. He had been so focused on exploring more and more of Charles' body that he left his own suit as it was.

"Fix it," he whispered into Charles' ear. "Fix whatever you like."

He meant that - he truly did. He had very few actual stories where he felt so alive and so free to be himself and in that moment it was as if everything he wanted was here on their bed. He pulled himself away from Charles so that there was room for the two of them to undress more fully.

Charles' fingers struggled with Erik's own buttons and fasteners, but soon enough he felt his hardness against the cool fabric of his shirt and couldn't help himself from letting out a moan as his trousers slipped down. He canted his hips up, nearly unseating Charles from his lap, but wanted himself free of anything between him and his husband. He had never felt like this before, and he was sure he wanted it as often as possible now.

 _We'll do whatever you want,_ Charles said, clearly picking up on Erik's thoughts and Erik's determination. Erik did away with Charles' remaining garments, letting Charles stand to let his own trousers drop to the floor.

 _Just you and only you tonight. However you want._ He was half-crazed with the haze of his own lust, hardly able to say anything more, but Erik was sure that Charles would know what it meant.

One of Charles' hands finally reached for his own prick and before long Charles' ministrations sent Erik over the edge. It felt as if the euphoria was over too quickly, but as Erik's vision came back into focus, one hand was back at Charles' erection. He took care to notice all of Charles' reactions as his hands moved against him.

Just as his own orgasm had come quickly, Charles came in much the same way: a quick moan just before his perfect mouth formed a perfect "O".

It was only now that Erik realized they were still sitting - more like a sprawl now - on the top of the bed.

 _Shall we actually sleep under the covers?_ he asked.

For a reply, Charles carefully stood, mindful of wobbly legs, and walked towards their bathroom. _Only after we've cleaned up, I think._

Erik watched Charles' arse sway as he moved and there was nowhere else Erik would rather be tonight. Or any night in the future.

-

**Epilogue**

_1873_

It had been many years since Charles had been officially welcome in the Westchester palace, but even now - as a Genoshan of high standing - the past haunted him at every turn. 

Farouk’s aura still permeated the space, even after everything that he and Erik had done together in the previous few months, and if he was honest, Charles would never find the palace free of the man.

But all of these lingering thoughts were an anathema to what he had wanted to do with his spare time. Everything that he had just been subjected to was awful and he was in no mood to let everything from his past ruin his and Erik’s last night.

Erik had been happy to wander through parts of Westchester and see some of Charles’ old haunts - including Greymalkin Lane - but even seeing Charles’ boyhood home had not helped improve Erik’s mood.

Both of them were in bad spirits, but Charles knew of one way to alter that. _That ceremony was more of a farce than anything I’d seen in this country before. Including Farouk’s rule and opinion of me. Why did we have to put him in change?_

_Because there was no other choice; much as you love Moira or Hank, they are not fit to lead with the support of the rest of the people. It was Kurt or that slimy Essex. Choose your evil._

Erik had a simmering hatred for both men as he spoke, and Charles understood it well enough. He had the same hatred in himself, though he had better control of his temper. _Well, I still don’t like it._

_As you’ve well said. We can’t do anything now; Kurt is now King of Westchester. G-d save everyone here._

_We’re out of here on the first airship tomorrow with Her Majesty. Is there anything you’d like to do, dearest?_ Charles’ mental voice held that air of frivolity that he had found in his blooming love of Erik, and one that Erik encouraged as often as he could. Charles had done much the same for Erik, enjoying how he could watch the man who had worked an elaborate scheme to marry him turn into a husband who truly understood his own wants and needs.

Erik’s mind slowly cottoned onto what Charles had insinuated and let out a soft laugh. _I think I know what we can do and how best to scandalize the palace staff. Just think what they’ll say when they see how much damage we can do to this one bed._

Charles hummed. “I love the way you think. Now come over here and let’s get started.”

Erik was never one to shy away from manhandling Charles, and in no time at all, Charles reveled in the feeling of Erik’s insistent hands roaming over his own heated skin. Erik had been shy at first - still unsure of himself - but now there wasn’t anything Erik wasn’t willing to try.

For all that Charles’ mind was filtering through what they could do tonight, Erik’s hands and powers had done the work of removing most of Charles’ clothes, leaving only his shirt hanging off a shoulder.

 _I want you to scream for me. Loud as you can; show them who you are now. So everyone knows what we’re doing and everyone knows where your alliances are now._ As Erik’s mind spoke to Charles, Erik’s hands drifted away and it sounded as if Erik was hastily removing his own clothes. Erik’s powers were doing something similar with Charles’ own clothes.

From the corner of Charles’ vision he saw the drawers around the room open and close before there was another telltale sound of their jar of oil opened at Erik’s command. At the moment, though, Charles was not lying on their bed for Erik to handle and as quickly as he could, Charles moved from where he stood, stepping out of his trousers and throwing his shirt to the floor. Without having looked at Erik’s eyes in minutes, Charles knew that his husband’s eyes were filled with lustful intent, powerful and passionate in equal measure. Erik’s words always spoke just as loudly as his actions, but there was always something about Erik’s voice that sparked Charles’ mind with how powerful and good they were together.

 _You want to feel this, don’t you?_ Erik asked, though Charles was sure that at this point Erik knew the answer without having to ask. Even in all of the trouble that had befallen them, they were in sync and truly did understand each other.

 _Yes, you wanker. Now, get on with it._ In an instant, Charles felt the bed dip and then one of Erik’s fingers drew slow circles around his hole, before that digit entered him. Until now, they had been tame in what they did in the small hours of the night - a handful of handjobs and one blowjob that had sent Erik’s mind reeling - but this was the first time that they had been so brazen in this palace. It was as if all the floodgates of their passion had an excuse to explode in the tempest of this country without consequence.

Erik, even now, was considerate and careful - despite what Erik had suggested they do - but Charles felt that it was well within his right to demand something else; his mind was clouded with his memories even as Erik’s ministrations worked him over - those painful memories from his youth creeping up and trying to take over. _That’s enough tonight. I want to feel you. You want to feel me._

That single digit that had been doing the work withdrew and soon Charles heard Erik slicking himself with oil followed by a pitched voice as he entered into Charles’ body.

Charles canted his hips back in rhythm with Erik’s pace, feeling the burn of the duvet against his skin. Soon the both of them were sweating and neither of them was holding anything back, lost in the feeling of something so raw and powerful after surviving something so dangerous before. Charles kept his face turned towards the door - scared of how much he felt and why it mattered so much - wanting to feel more than see Erik’s face as they fucked. Erik’s pace was just shy of what Charles wanted and with each thrust of Erik’s hips, Charles screamed, “Harder, Erik! Just fuck me!”, caring little if anyone else heard, regardless of what Erik had suggested earlier. He had found that he couldn’t keep his own arousal down and started to quickly work his own erection, feeling the pre-come starting to coat his fingers in a rough pace that matched how raw he felt inside.

In response, Erik only grunted and moaned as he worked away from Charles before he slammed back in, this time harder and faster than before. Charles felt himself start to crest and just as Erik pushed in again Charles came with a moan, streaking their chests with come. As he rode out the last of his euphoria, Erik’s thrusts grew more erratic and he came just as Charles was calming down, putting more of his weight on Charles as he continued to rock back and forth.

“Keep going,” Charles said, hoping that Erik’s own high would help his mind clear of everything else from today.

“Not until you look me in the eyes.” Erik’s voice was tight, hoarse from his pleasure, but also cool as Emma’s icy presence.

Charles turned to look at Erik and saw a rage that Charles thought had died a few weeks ago. They had won, after all, and there was no question of that now.

“You’ll never return here, but I want them to remember you.” It was not a threat - far from it - but Charles’ mind processed exactly what Erik meant. He pulled himself from Erik’s space and turned over, projecting what else he wanted right now; needing another outlet for everything that he felt.

 _One more hurt before it’s exorcised._ Charles kept his mental voice clear, but wanted to convey his own feelings about Erik’s words. _Make it last._ Even now, they had never tested a boundary like this, but Charles felt more than saw that Erik’s mind was as dark as his own.

It felt like moments before Erik did as Charles had wished. There were a series of pinches to Charles’ arse before there was a solid thwack to his upper thighs. It felt so different from any previous pains he had suffered here - physical or psychic - and for that he was grateful.

“Harder!”

Erik complied as if there wasn’t anything wrong with what they were doing and Charles let himself become lost in the ruddy stings as they moved to his arse and stayed there.

“Remember me,” Erik said as his breathing hitched, and Charles did. Each new slap making Charles forget everyone save Erik and this room.

He really did. He felt when Erik stopped and then found a cool cloth against his skin before there was a dip into the bed and Erik covered them in the sheets.

Sleep was soon to come and everything that had cast shadows over the day slowed and faded as his lids close.

-

In the morning there was a note slipped under their bedroom from Her Majesty.

_You were very loud. If there was a reason, well done._

Charles had a small laugh at her words and went to find some paper of his own for their own note. He would make sure that it was addressed to His Majesty Kurt Marko and be gone from this place.

There was nothing left to tether him to the country that had raised him and everything that he cared about stood in Genosha: his family, his friends, his new job.

It wasn’t the life he had imagined for himself three years ago, but it was a life that he’d gladly take and relish.

**Author's Note:**

> Before comments come in, there is more to this. Between the wedding night and the epilogue there's a whole other story coming. It'll come at some point soon (depending on my free time).


End file.
